


save the best for last

by dustbear



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Don't Touch Lola, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-13
Updated: 2013-05-13
Packaged: 2017-12-11 19:05:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/802128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustbear/pseuds/dustbear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil Coulson has always tried to save the best things for last. Now, he's gotten a second chance, and he's done with that.</p><p>A short fic about Phil Coulson's favourite car and Phil Coulson's favourite man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	save the best for last

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone's writing Lola minifics, and I HAD TO. I'm also on [Tumblr](http://dustjane.tumblr.com/)!

Phil Coulson has always reserved the best for special occasions, and he has always saved the best for last. It’s a habit that he’s been trying to rid himself of, because SHIELD agents do not have low mortality rates, and it is frankly a wonder that he has even made it this far. These are the thoughts swirling through his head as he lies, slumped against the wall. He can feel himself bleed out as his extremities grow cold. He thinks of the slice of chocolate cake in his office fridge. He’d been saving it for later. There probably won’t be a later now.  

Mostly, he thinks of Clint Barton. Clint is his favourite. And Clint is sort of his life, even if Clint maybe doesn’t know that yet. Phil will never admit it later, but he also thinks of the cherry red ‘62 Corvette in his garage. Technically, it is also SHIELD issue car FLGT-681PCE, but that is a mouthful, and technically, SHIELD issue car FLGT-681PCE was also not a cherry red ‘62 Corvette. Well, not really. Well, not at all. Tony Stark had owed him a favour or twenty. She’s had a lot of work done, lots of subtle and not-so-subtle modifications, and she’s gorgeous now, that old girl.

Wait, he was thinking about Clint Barton. He should have told Clint about that. That’s definitely going on the regret list, not kissing Clint Barton. It has been years of subtle flirtation, so subtle that he’s certain Clint had completely missed it for the first few years. He likes Clint, he really, really does. 

Nick Fury sweeps into view, and he mumbles what he thinks are his last words. He’s not sure what they are. They probably aren’t very good.

\---

When he wakes up, Clint is there by his bedside, looking worried and excited all at the same time. He grasps at Clint’s hand, and what he wants to tell Clint is “I really like you. Do you want to go on a date with me?”

What he actually says is “Barton, there are a set of keys in my desk drawer, please go and start the red car in my garage. She’s been sitting idle for too long.”

Clint knows which one it is. Of course he does, he’s been lusting over it for years, not understanding why Phil Coulson never drives it.

“The red car? That gorgeous thing. You call her ‘ _the red car_ ’?” Clint almost looks angry, and Phil winces a little, although he’s also still in a lot of pain, so it doesn’t look too out of place.

“You can drive her, if you like.” Phil offers, by way of apology, and Clint grins and practically runs out of the room.

Well, Phil considers gloomily, at least he has come quite a bit closer to offering Clint his heart this time.

\---

He makes it back to his apartment a month later. A cursory look at the car shows that Clint has treated her well - _fine_ , it’s a cursory look that takes ninety minutes, and huh, she is _purring_. He’s not entirely sure what Clint has done, but there’s a vibrant hum emanating from the car now, and the cherry gloss finish seems to be even shinier. He spends the weekend tinkering with the car, ignoring that his muscles still ache, and his ribs are stiff and sore. He’ll have to name her soon, but for now he is busy being impressed with the little tweaks that Clint has apparently done in his absence. If it were anyone else, Phil would be annoyed at the liberties taken, but he’s always been a bit soft on Clint-related transgressions.

When he starts the engine the first time, the radio blares on, which surprises him, because he hadn’t found a suitable one yet. The car didn’t have a radio when he’d last seen her. He looks closer, and traces the lines of the replica stereo, chromed and perfect, following the auxilliary input to a Walkman - a honest to god Walkman - lying on the passenger seat. He flicks it open, pressing on the familiar button, and pulls out a mix tape. It is old and weathered, and the bits in the center have been slightly bent from having been rewound with a pencil too many times. The scrawl on it is Barton’s, but it is the writing of an earlier Clint Barton, maybe barely out of his teens. He grins at the thought of Barton, dressed in a tight white t-shirt and sunglasses, gliding down the highway in the beautiful cherry red car.

\---

Monday happens, and Phil decides to go back to work. He’s on medical leave for another few months, but the thought of his work piling up is stressing him out beyond belief and really, he’s been thinking about Clint Barton a lot lately, and his office is a lot closer to Clint than his apartment is. He puts on a freshly dry cleaned suit, one of his nicer ones. He has coffee for breakfast, and a slice of chocolate cake. Then, he stands in his garage, looking at the red Corvette, and the standard issue black car next to it. He’s had years of driving a black standard issue SHIELD car from the motor pool. A bland, uninteresting, boring car, just like his undercover identities.

But really, he’s been given a second chance, and by god, he’s going to drive the red car today. 

He puts Clint’s old tape back in the old Walkman, and drives to work.

Phil rolls the windows down, feeling the wind slap his face. This is his second chance, and he’s going to drive the red car all the time, and he’s going to eat chocolate cake first and frequently, and he’s going to tell Clint Barton everything that he’s been bottling up for years. Clint’s mix tape plays songs from the ‘70s, and Phil smiles because Clint is a little bit too young for that, but this is the music of his own youth, and it is perfect. And right then, gliding into his parking spot, The Kinks playing loudly, he knows her name. “Don’t touch Lola,” he says, as the flight deck technician approaches, and goddamn, _of course_. The words fall off his lips, and it's perfect. That’s her name, his brave, beautiful, confusing girl that walks like a woman, and talks like a man. Oh, Clint is going to have a field day with that, but Phil doesn’t care.

The lobby is crowded as he walks in, and it erupts in noise when he pushes the door open. He wishes that the entirety of SHIELD weren’t all here to see him limping, and not quite whole, but the cheers are loud and the clapping sustains his careful steps. Jasper Sitwell and Maria Hill are actually whooping their welcome backs, and they’ve never been so enthusiastically loud, so he gives in, and laughs with them. Nick Fury salutes him. He’s certain that they’d all probably try to lift him onto their shoulders if he didn't wave them off. He shakes hands, gets clapped on the back and doles out hugs as the crowd parts for him. And then, there’s Natasha and Clint at the end of the line,

“Welcome back, sir.” Natasha says, smiling happily, and he hugs her tightly. “Are you still going to be a coward about this?” she whispers slyly in his ear, glancing at Clint, who’s fidgeting next to her.

No, Phil is not going to be a coward, because Agent Phil Coulson is not a coward, and he’s gotten a second chance. He’s finished saving the best things for last, because ‘last’ is not a goal, nor is it a promise.

“Hi - “ Clint says, as Phil detaches from the hug, but Phil pulls him into a kiss by way of greeting - broadcasting his exact intentions right there in front of Natasha, in front of Nick Fury, in front of all of SHIELD, and he doesn’t quite care, because Clint is soft, and a little rough, and he is definitely, definitely kissing back. Clint looks back, surprised, when they part.

“Um - “ Clint starts, looking a bit shell shocked..

“Her name is Lola,” Phil says. “And I’d like you to have dinner with me tonight. What would you like to eat?”

“Spaghetti?” Clint blurts out, and later, as Phil is laughing and kissing a trail down his neck, he’ll admit that it was not his finest moment.

 


End file.
